


Weathering the Storm

by kaeorin



Series: Stark Tower: Avengers Drabbles [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fear, Fluff, Slice of Life, Stark Tower, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: You’ve always hated thunderstorms. Who better to help you deal with than than the God of Thunder himself?





	Weathering the Storm

Summer storms were stupid. All your life, you’d thought that the kinds of people who waxed poetic about the blessings of summer storms were just idiots who over-romanticized the most mundane aspects of life because they didn’t have anything good going for them otherwise. All that noise and bluster, and for what? All just to rip branches off of trees and flood the streets and give everyone a headache? Most of the time, they didn’t even cool things off—of course it only ever rained just enough to make the air hot and moist, so that when you stepped out of a lovely air-conditioned building, it felt like you were walking into a giant mouth. 

Okay.

You hated thunderstorms.

You made damn sure that no one ever found out, because it was absolutely ridiculous for someone like you to be afraid of a damn weather phenomenon. Especially now that you were a grown-ass woman who fought alongside the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, you knew that your fear was unfounded. But there was something about hearing the roar of thunder just outside the window that never failed to turn you into a trembling child hiding in her bed with the blankets pulled up over her head.

You worked hard to keep your feelings hidden. You did not make a habit out of griping about the weather, not even when other people around you were going all starry-eyed about the utter beauty of a world that banged and crashed as the skies pissed down rain. More importantly, though: You did not allow yourself to hide in your bed with the blankets pulled up over your head. You’d never be one of those people who stood by windows to watch the world fall down around you, but...you made a point of sitting where you could see and hear the mess, if only to prove to yourself that you _could_.

There were a lot of windows in Stark Tower, but the biggest one—and, incidentally, the one with the best view of the city—was in what basically passed for the living room. When you’d woken up this morning to a grey and heavy sky, you’d known exactly what you had to do all day. The first flash of lightning had lit up the world just a few moments before you’d dropped yourself into the overstuffed chair by the window, and the first roll of thunder had made you flinch just as you’d opened your book to start reading. You kept your back to the window so you didn’t actually have to see any of what was happening, but it was hard to ignore the sounds. 

For a while, things were okay. The thunder was a little more raucous than you would have preferred, but your book was easy enough to follow that you could convince yourself that, _really_ , it was fine. But then, almost out of nowhere, lightning struck particularly close, which meant that the crash of thunder was instantaneous—and loud. Despite yourself, you shrank down into your chair and gasped. You didn’t react like that very much anymore, but goddamn, that sounded like it was just downstairs. 

You drew in a calming breath before forcing yourself to sit up more normally again. You were an adult. Adults were supposed to be really good at weathering storms like this. Snap out of it. Your fingers were trembling, so you clenched your fists for a moment before picking your book back up.

“I didn’t know anyone was in here,” came a voice from the doorway. Thankfully, the adrenaline that was already coursing through your veins preventing you from flinching again. Instead, you looked up as Thor strode through the doorway, and forced a smile at him.

“It’s alright,” you said, as noncommittally as you could manage. He went to stand before the window, sipping thoughtfully from his coffee mug from time to time. He was just here to watch the storm. Fair enough. You directed most of your attention back towards the book in your hands, though it was considerably more difficult to concentrate. The storm was getting closer. Lightning flashed more often, and the thunder grew louder. You tightened your grip on your book but ultimately gave up trying to read in favor of simply trying to breathe normally. Having someone else in the room was only making things worse. You were hyperaware of everything your body did, and that increased your anxiety tenfold. When you were alone, you didn’t have to worry about whether you looked like a baby during a storm. But the actual God of Thunder was standing not ten feet away from you. Sure, he seemed utterly engrossed in what was going on outside and barely even seemed to notice that you were there, but...still.

Finally, the worst-case scenario happened: Thor spoke to you.

“Are you well?”

The man had the audacity to sound concerned, instead of outright laughing at your ridiculous behavior. Keeping your eyes fixed on the page in your lap, you gave him another tight-lipped smile and nodded. “I’m fine,” you added, just in case he wasn’t looking at you. “Just, you know...a tense point in the story.”

He hummed thoughtfully and might have directed his attention back to the storm, if another bolt of lightning hadn’t chosen that exact moment to make you jump again. You closed your book for the last time and pressed one hand against your forehead. There was really no point in pretending anymore. A part of you wanted to just get up and go to hide in your room, except you knew that, if you did that without explaining yourself to Thor, his caring nature might have led him to make this into something bigger than it was. So you drew in a breath and laid your head against the back of the chair, trying your best to appear carefree as you looked at him. Sure enough, he was watching you quietly, his eyebrows heavy with concern.

“I don’t like storms,” you said in a low voice. One corner of your mouth curled up in a wry smile. “I know, I’m an adult woman. I fight crime and the worst people that humanity has to offer, no problem, but bright lights and loud noises outside scare me. But it’s the truth.”

Thor set his mug down on a nearby shelf and then took several steps closer to you with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. “Are you...” He looked at you for a minute, but his gaze quickly skittered away, to fixate on something just outside the window. “Do I…scare you? When I—” He gestured towards the rain pouring down the glass. It wasn’t hard to tell what he was asking. You gripped the arms of your chair and laughed. 

“No. I trust you. I know you’ve got things under control when you do stuff like that. But, see, I grew up in the part of the country that people call Tornado Alley. I can’t tell you how much of my childhood I spent hiding in basements, waiting for a storm to pass so I could go out and see what kind of damage was left behind. I guess it kind of messed me up.” Basically everyone you’d grown up with had become all but unflappable after all those storms, but you’d never quite managed it. 

“And yet you sit there, so close to something that scares you. I knew that you were a fearsome warrior, but I did not realize how brave you were.”

Okay, that was enough. Your cheeks burned so hot that you knew you had to be bright red. He was speaking kindly enough, and it was true that you had never known Thor to be cruel, but the Norse God of Thunder could not possibly be sincere in calling you _brave_ for sitting next to a window during a thunderstorm. Maybe it was some kind of understated Asgardian teasing. “Hilarious.” You pushed yourself out of the chair and tried to leave, but he caught your wrist before you could. 

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t bother trying to free yourself, but neither did you turn to face him head-on. “Don’t patronize me. I know it’s stupid, but I’m _working_ on it. I feel dumb enough about it without anyone’s help.” Your eyes prickled dangerously, but there was no way in hell that you were going to reveal yourself to be a baby who was afraid of thunder _and_ who cried when people made fun of her for it. 

Thor sputtered for a moment and you might have been amused at the undignified sound, if the situation were any different. But then he tugged your arm—gently, and just enough to turn your body to face him. With his free hand he touched your jawline but, thankfully, did not try to force you to look him in the eyes. “I meant it. On Asgard, soldiers do exactly what you have done in order to prove their courage and suitability for battle.”

You rolled your eyes. “They sit next to windows?” You should never have left your floor of the Tower. Everyone was scattered to their own various corners. It wouldn’t have been suspicious to hole yourself up in your room. No one would have known if you’d spent your afternoon hiding in your blankets. Hell, no one had any idea what Tony actually did in his lab most of the time, or what anyone else did when they weren’t in a common area of the Tower. He could well have been dressing in footie pajamas and diapers and sucking his thumb all day long down there. No one cared. You’d brought all of this on yourself.

“No.” His voice was at once firm and gentle. “They stare down their fears, just as you have done. I meant no offense.” When you finally allowed yourself to look at him, something in his eyes softened, almost like a smile. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Thanks,” you finally mumbled. It would have been wonderful if the floor could have just opened up and swallowed you, so you couldn’t keep standing there with Thor looking at you like that. Letting your pride make you react like that was almost as stupid as jumping at every roll of thunder, but...what was done was done. 

“Don’t go?” When Thor spoke again, his voice sounded hopeful. “Watch the storm with me? The worst is nearly over.”

You wanted to say no.

You wanted to retreat into your room and...not hide under your blankets, exactly, but...lick your wounds, at least. Deal with your wounded pride.

But Thor was looking at you with those big blue eyes of his. He looked contrite, as though he thought he didn’t really have any right to ask you to stay, but he was asking anyway. He didn’t look like he was making fun of you. He didn’t look like he would _ever_ make fun of you. 

You swallowed hard and glanced out the window. Rain was washing down the glass in thick sheets. Off in the distance, though, the sky was just barely lightening, like maybe the sun was trying to break through. You could stay. 

Rather than struggling to find the right thing to say, you just lowered your eyes and nodded. That must have been enough, though, because Thor made a sound like thunder—like laughter, rumbling through that expansive chest of his—and pulled you in close, spinning you so that your back was pressed against his chest. He kept one arm resting against your belly, not squeezing so much as...reassuring, and with the other, he gestured towards the sky to warn you where to look for bolts of lightning. 

Summer storms were still stupid. But standing there, braced against Thor’s warm chest with his gentle strength wrapped around you, listening to the softness of his voice and his laughter as he told you just about every story from his childhood that he could think to share—and then listening to his thoughtful silence as he got distracted by the downpour outside the window—you could almost see what the writers and the poets were always going on about.

Almost.


End file.
